Generation X
by Icarii Enchantress
Summary: AU: (A/OCh @ start) Takes a look at Manticore's other soldiers, and the relationship between them and their COs. MAJOR AU.
1. Default Chapter

SERIES: Generation X  
AUTHOR: Stef  
EMAIL: sgalvin1@hotmail.com or x5transgenic@hotmail.com

  
FEEDBACK: Yes, please, please, please! :)  
ARCHIVE: Fanfic.net, my site, anywhere else, please ask.  
 SPOILERS: The Berrisford Agender  
CONTENT/WARNING: Not really. Some implied stuff, nothing major.  
RATING: PG (mild language + implied stuff)  
DISCLAIMER: Hell, if I owned any of the characters of Dark Angel, I'd be very happy. But since I don't, I am content to sit here and make up stories. I don't own anything of any real worth, so it'd be no use suing me. I own anyone you don't recognize from DA – Jordan, Skates, Sammy, Kryz, Jackson, and others later on.  
  


AUTHOR'S NOTES: **IMPORTANT : READ!**

In brief… this is major AU for season 1 and the start of season 2 (where regular cast members are concerned). I haven't seen season 2 – but I've read half of the transcripts and am finishing them soon – that's why the AU. Don't flame me, I'll just laugh and keep writing (I think). Also, this is a remake of my old DA story entitled Generation X, and at the moment is essentially the same. I got some drafts that need typing up that will change the original story. Enjoy.

Peace. Out.

*Stef


	2. Generation X: X-5/989

--------------------------  
Generation X: 1  
X5-989  
by Stef  
--------------------------  
  
  
"You know we could get sent to psych ops for this?" a man said to the girl lying to next to him.  
  


She rolled over. "And since when do you care where you get sent, as long as you get free reign?" her blue eyes piercing his own.  
  
"Since I spent six months there," he said. "It isn't fun there. You'd hate it."  
  
She sat up, looking down at him. "Since when did you care about my well-being?" she mocked. "You're showing your emotions, soldier." She playfully punched his shoulder.  
  
As she did so, he grabbed her wrist. "How the hell you survived the training we went through - and still go through - amazes me. You act more like the people out here, than like the soldier you are."  
  
"That's 'coz I'm one hell of a soldier. They just can't bear to kill me just 'coz I'm a little eccentric." Her tone was playfully cocky.  
  
He rolled his eyes. "And they thought I would be the one to go mad," he muttered.  
  
She smiled innocently, leaning over to cover his mouth with her own, causing him to be silent. "Admit it - you like me the way I am," she said challenging him.  
  
With fluid movement, he flipped her over. Now lying on top of her, he smiled a cocky smile that challenged her tone. "We're not even meant to know that we're both in Seattle. She'll frown upon us, you know."  
  
"She might frown on you, maybe," she replied raising her eyebrows. "But she happens to like me. I'm her informant, remember. I tell her everything I see, hear.... and perhaps everything that I do."   
  
"Even this?"  
  
"Who knows," she replied, managing to shrug beneath his body. "Maybe she'll get a sick pleasure out of it."  
  
"Or she'll make sure we never work in the same area - or maybe even same country - ever again."  
  
"Tell me," she started, "how is it that you always come up with the worst possible scenario?"  
  
"I practice," he said, kissing her lips.  
  
With a strength that no man - let alone a woman - could possibly have, she flipped him back onto his back, half-laying on him. "You know you love this. Besides, when have you ever been one to follow rules anyway?"  
  
At that instant, a muffled beeping broke of their tryst.  
  
"Damn. Whose is it?"  
  
The girl fumbled with something on the floor. "It's mine, genius. Yours plays some stupid tune. Now, shush, or we'll really be caught." She answers the phone.  
  
The voice on the other end was cold, icy, and devoid of emotion. "State your designation."  
  
"X-5/989, ma'am," the girl replied automatically. This was what she had been trained to do.  
  
"Has your target been eliminated, 989?"  
  
The guy's eyebrows lift, and his face portrayed the look that said, "I told you so." He was listening in to the conversation. Extra sensitive hearing was a bitch. She shrugs at him. "Negative. Target returned to the designated area. I'm awaiting target's arrival home."  
  
"Report when target is eliminated, and return to base," the female voice said, slightly impatient. 

The line went dead.  
  
"Yeah, nice talking to you, too," 989 said into the dead phone line, sarcasm lingering in her voice. She climbed off the bed, picking up her clothes as she went. "Stop staring. It's rude," she reprimanded him, walking into the ensuite to get changed.  
  
He shrugs. "You didn't seem to think so last night."  
  
She emerged and saw him smirking. Dressed in an all-black outfit, her light-brown hair pulled back into a pony-tail and her good mood fast deteriorating, she replied, "Yeah, well, since you and Renfro seem to both have missions and rules on the brain, I figured I'd high-tail it out of here, before I go nuts," she said, picking up her gun, tucking it in at the back of her belt, covering it with her jacket.  
  
"Damn. And here I thought we were going to have some fun," he said, getting out of bed, walking towards her. Grabbing her shoulders, he kissed her forcefully, taking her jacket off - well, he tried to.  
  
"Uh-uh, sir," she said breaking free of his grasp. "That's how we ended up here last night. Like you said - we have missions to attend to," she said, re-adjusting her jacket. "See you back at base. Later," she said, opening the door and walking out - only to narrowly avoid knocking over someone.  
  
That 'someone' happened to be a Jam Pony messenger - a dorky-looking guy with dark hair.   
  
"Jam Pony Messenger service. I have a package here for a 'Mister X'," he said, seemingly amused at the name.  
  
989 grabbed the package. "Where do I sign?" she asked.  
  
He looked at her weirdly. "You Mister X?"  
  
She put on her most seductive face. "No, but I can sign for him. He's out cold. We kinda had too much fun last night - and this morning. You don't have to tell your boss that I signed for him, do you?" she flashed him a killer smile.  
  
"No…no, of course not. Sketchy here is always willing to help the ladies." He took her signature and left.   
  
When he was out of sight, she walked back into the room. "You know, 494, this is one habit you ought to kick," she said, dropping the box of cigars onto the bed, and walked back out again.  
  
"They're not for me, you know," he said, rolling over. 

"That wasn't the habit I was talking about," she called out from the hallway as the door closed with a click.   
  
--------  
  
X-5/989 stood in a phone booth, waiting while the phone rang.  
  
"Hello?" The male voice was cool and calm.  
  
"Sir, it's me," 989 said, lacking the formality she used with Renfro.   
  
"989?" the voice queried. "Who is your target?"  
  
"Margaret Haroldson. Forty-five year old, female caucasian. Born fifteenth..." 989 started rambling off details.  
  
The voice stopped her. "That's okay, 989. What's her location?"  
  
She remembered the details. "A town house in sector three. Really old house. Doesn't have an exact address. It's easy to spot - practically next door to the north checkpoint, sir."  
  
"Very good. And what is your plan?"  
  
"Permission to speak frankly, sir?"  
  
"Granted."  
  
"I've always been a bit of a pyromaniac, sir."  
  
"ETA?"  
  
"One hour, sir."  
  
"Very good, soldier."  
  
"Thank you, sir. See you back at base."  
  
"Yes. Oh, and Jordan..."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Don't get caught out."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
---------  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
X-5/989. That's me. When I was younger, my first team had this thing about names. They named me Jordan. Then in 2009, 12 members of that team escaped. I was especially close with those 12. Me and Jace were the only two left. We went through extensive re-programming. I guess some of it worked. Most of it didn't.   
  
After that, no one called me Jordan. Well, almost no one. One other person, besides the occasional reprimands from Jace – but she escaped herself not long ago. My place at Manticore is very hard to explain. I'm meant to work exclusively for Dr. Renfro. But I'm also meant to work exclusively for the only adult at Manticore that I ever trusted. That sometimes presents a problem, since Renfro and my mentor don't really get along. That's actually a huge understatement.   
  
I'm also not meant to be fraternizing with other X5s, or anyone else for that matter. But I swear that X-5/494 started it - okay, that's a bit childish, but it's the truth.   
  
The only real problem I face is that the world outside of Manticore looks like more fun. But then I lose 494, and more than I could possibly imagine. So much for being one of the best super-soldiers, huh?  
  
So now you know about me –X-5/989/Jordan. This is my story...  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
-------  
  
  
Margaret Haroldson's house was ancient, to say the least. It was ancient before the pulse hit in '09. A house that old would have cost a fortune, especially since it was in almost near perfect state, rare for this country now. You'd have to be very wealthy to own it. And Margaret Haroldson was.   
  
Ms. Haroldson was an ex-employee of Manticore. Therefore, in addition to retirement funds, she was also paid silence-money from Manticore. In essence, money to make her keep her mouth shut. And she had, until one of the escaped X5s contacted her. Then she made an announcement via a newspaper that discreetly said that she would reveal all unless Manticore paid up. Big time.   
  
Jazz looked the place up and down. 'Not bad,' she thought. 'Could get a whole stack of cash from a place like that.'   
  
She couldn't walk up to the front door and pick the lock - not so close to a checkpoint. But on second thoughts, why not. It wasn't exactly like Margaret would be home. Her guy would have made sure of that.  
  
She walked up to the front door, using one of her lock picks discreetly, as she picked the lock. After a few seconds she heard the click, and turned the knob, opening the door. After a cursory look around her, she proceeded through the door.  
  
It took her only a moment to see the dead body of a soldier on the floor in the living room. A few moments after that was all it took to see the safe. Smiling, she walked over to it, cautiously. It wasn't necessary, but old habits were hard to kick.  
  
Pressing her ear to the door she started turning the knob until she heard the three distinct clicks. Ah, the wonders of extra-sensitive hearing. The safe door opened, and inside were two envelopes, and a black velvet box. The box contained a silver sapphire necklace, embedded with diamonds. Taking it out of the box, she tucked into the inside pocket of her vest. She opened the smaller of the two envelopes first.  
  
_X-5/989,  
Let's not be greedy.  
See you back at base.  
_   
Jordan groaned as she read the words. It was her boss' handwriting. Meaning he'd taken practically everything of any real value. Ripping up the note, she opened the final envelope. It contained $10,000. She sighed as she put that into her other inside-vest pocket.  
  
'Next stop: kitchen,' she thought as she found her way there. She found the small matchbox, and struck one of them. Staring mesmerized by the flame, she was almost reluctant to fling it onto the floor. A satisfactory fire started, and she walked back into the first room, lighting another match. 

She smiled a small satisfactory smile, then made her way out of the house, and her way back to base.  
  
Mission Accomplished. 


	3. Generation X: Truths

--------------------------  
Generation X [Two]  
"New Mission"  
by Stefanie  
--------------------------  
  
  
Jordan was waiting in one of Manticore's briefing rooms for Renfro, Manticore's director.  
  
'And she can't even be on time. What a surprise,' she thought sarcastically.  
  
The door opened, and she snapped to attention. But it wasn't Renfro that entered.  
  
"Colonel Lydecker," she said.  
  
"At ease soldier." Jordan relaxed slightly. "I trust your mission was a success?"  
  
She allowed herself a small smile. "Yes, sir. The house should be burnt to cinders by now, sir, taking Haroldson with it."  
  
"Very good, 989..." he stopped when Renfro walked through the door.  
  
"Deck?" Renfro asked, surprised to see him in the room. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Lydecker's voice clearly displayed his dislike for the director. "X-5/989 had just been de-briefing me on her mission. She's been waiting for you for over an hour, and my kids get…impatient. And when they're impatient, they break things." He paused, looking out one of the barred windows. "Besides, I'm going to need her within the next few days to run an errand for me." With that, he walked out the door.  
  
Renfro got in Jordan's face. "Did you tell him anything about the mission?"  
  
"No, ma'am." Good thing she was able to hide feelings and emotions, otherwise her looks _would_ kill.  
  
"Good, because that could jeopardize everything." She turned and walked away, then turned back again. "As soon as he tells you what he wants you to do, I want you to come and tell me immediately, is that clear 989?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am."   
  
Renfro stared at Jordan's blank, soldier-like face. "You're still loyal to me, 989. You're the best of my soldiers; perhaps the best soldier at Manticore. Don't disappoint me. Dismissed."  
  
Jordan stood to attention, and left.  
  
--------  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
I'm going to let you in on a little secret about Manticore's genetic creations.  
  
We may be the smartest, fastest, strongest, deadliest soldiers in the world - but it doesn't make us perfect. After the '09 escape, Manticore lost some of it's rigidness. And now that most of the X5 series were in their late teens, early twenties, and not considered risks, they got free reign of the Manticore barracks. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
-------  
  
Jordan sat down across from 445, 777, 658, and 657. It was a reunion of the girls of X5 unit 4.  
  
"Hey," 445 said, "word is that you and 494 went down while you were in Seattle."  
  
Jordan rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and I also brought back the plague, killed a thousand children, and worked the clubs."  
  
657 and 658, the twins of unit 4, raised their eyebrows. "You sure?"  
  
"I mean, it's not like we'd tell anyone," 777 added.  
  
"You know what I think?" Jordan said, leaning forward. "I think we should rename our unit from Unit 4 to Gossip Queens."   
  
They all stared at her. "I resent that, 989," 658 said.  
  
"Yeah, well, I resent having to wait over an hour for a debriefing session, then having to come here and deal with this kind of crap."  
  
"I think you spent way too much time in Common Verbal Usage," 445 said, crossing her arms. "You talk too freely here, and one day one of the TAC leaders, or the director, or even Colonel Lydecker, are going to hear, and are going to send you to psych ops."  
  


"I'm surprised they haven't already," 658 muttered.

  
"Oooh, I'm scared," Jordan said her voice hard. "Now, listen up. You are *my* team. I am in charge - or did you all forget that small fact? If you'd like, I'll pull rank. Now I'm going to ask that you all show a little respect or I'm going to report your sorry Asses. Is that clear, soldiers?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." The other 4 female X5s knew they'd overstepped the border. Jordan hardly every pulled rank on them.  
  
--------  
  
Renfro sat at her desk, watching Lydecker like a hawk watches its prey. "Deck, I've heard some rumors about two of your kids who were in Seattle on separate missions.'  
  
'Here it comes,' Lydecker thought.  
  
"It seem they were together for an entire night. Now, I don't know what your kids are playing at, but they were on separate missions."  
  
Sighing, he replied, "And which two would they be?"  
  
"989 and 494."  
  
"And has anyone confirmed that?"  
  
"I intend on querying them both as soon as 494 returns from his mission..."  
  
"How much attention are you paying around here, lately?" Lydecker asked her. "You kept 989 waiting for an hour earlier. Would it surprise you if I told you that 494 arrived not long ago? *And* he did present himself."  
  
Renfro shot him a death look, and called in one of the X5 TAC leaders. "Bring X-5/989 and X-5/494 here."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"Why are you making such a big deal about this?" Lydecker asked her. "You have no problems with any of the other X5s."  
  
"X-5/989, in case you hadn't noticed, is the one of the best soldiers Manticore has created. Faster, stronger, smarter - she can take out the damn X7s, which we didn't think she'd be able to. I don't want her falling pregnant. She's too important to have to take leave because of it."  
  
"I thought you'd be pleased with the prospect of having a second-generation X5..."  
  
Renfro stood up from her desk, her eyes shooting daggers. "Deck," she said, her tone low and dangerous. "I want her available for every mission. Understood?"  
  
"Understood," Lydecker said. He moved towards one of the corners and sat down on a chair. "If you don't mind, Director, I'd like to hear what my kids have to say for themselves."  
  
After a few minutes, the TAC leader walked in with both 494 and Jordan, who both stood at attention.  
  
"I've heard some worrying rumors floating around here about you two," Renfro said, pacing in front of them. "But I'd like to hear what you have to say about it." She looked at 494.  
  
"Rumors, ma'am?" he queried, his voice all soldier.  
  
"Yes," she said. "X-5/494, what were your movements for the past twenty-four hours?"  
  
494 looked slightly uncomfortable, and the room was full of tension. Lydecker spoke up, "At ease, soldiers." With that, the two of them relaxed.  
  
"I followed the target, to and from work in sector nine, observing him, and planning my attack. Attack was executed three hours ago, ma'am," 494 said, with moving his eyes from where they were staring in front of him.  
  
Renfro stood in front of Jordan. "And you, 989?"  
  
"When I was first deployed, target was not present at her home. I queried some neighbours, but was unable to locate her. I staked out an apartment across from her house in sector three, and waited until she returned. When you contacted me this morning, target had not yet returned. She did so about half an hour later. Attack was executed an hour after that, ma'am." Jordan kept her eyes averted from Renfro.  
  
"See, Director," Lydecker said. "My kids are good soldiers." He looked at them. "Did either of you two have anything else to add?"  
  
"No, sir." Jordan and 494 stood at attention again.  
  
"989, come with me please," Lydecker said to Jordan, looking smugly at Renfro.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
494 gave Jordan a slight smile that both Renfro and Lydecker missed. They also missed his indication to meet him later.  
  
-------  
  
"I'm sorry about all that, Jordan," Lydecker said when they were in his office.  
  
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" she asked, her tone impatient.  
  
He chuckled. "If you should happen to escape, I'm sure you'd fit in straight away with the outside world. You're different from all the others."  
  
"I'm glad you noticed," she said, before she realised what she'd said. "I'm sorry, sir. I was out of line."  
  
They were both silent for a moment, before Lydecker said, "The truth."  
  
Jordan looked confused. "The truth?"  
  
"About you and 494."  
  
She snapped her head around. "What about us?"  
  
Lydecker waved a dismissive hand. "Was Renfro right about the rumors?"  
  
"Of course she was right about there being rumors. My own unit was asking me about them."  
  
"You're avoiding the question."  
  
"Forgive me, sir, but I answered you question," Jordan said sweetly, fully knowing where this was headed.  
  
Lydecker sighed. Jordan may have been Manticore's best soldier, but she was stubborn, and evasive at the worst of times. "I meant to say were the rumors true, or not."  
  
"What do you want me to say, sir. You heard our replies." She could out-stubborn him, she was sure of it.  
  
"I guess that means that you lied to her?" Lydecker asked Jordan, turning to face her.  
  
Silence.  
  


"I'm taking you out of Manticore."  
  
"WHAT!" Jumbled thoughts ran through her mind. "I thought you said you had a mission for me?" Uh-oh, she was *definitely* panicking.  
  
"This is your mission," Lydecker said, in an irritatingly-calm voice.  
  
"Oh, good, so you mean it's only temporarily?" 'Calm down,' she told herself.  
  
'For as long as it takes,' Lydecker said in his head. "I don't know how long you'll be out of Manticore," he admitted. "Think of it as a recon mission. I want you to integrate yourself into the Seattle population."  
  
"How? And what for?"  
  
"You're a good soldier, Jordan. You ask the right questions," Lydecker complimented her. He stopped the car. "I want you to integrate yourself into Seattle's community. You're a reporter who's moved there for a big break. This job allows you to have a sector pass, though, if you find something else that you like, go for it. A smaller part of your mission is to identify and observe 

X-5/452." He handed Jordan a mobile. "When I need to talk to you, I'll call you on that phone. It's a scrambled cell."  
  
"Sir, what is this all about?" Jordan asked, certain that he wasn't telling her everything.  
  
"Let's just say, I don't want you to get involved in any more of Renfro's games at Manticore." He started the car up again. "I've organised an apartment for you, as well as transportation."  
  
Jordan nodded numbly. "Sir, permission to speak freely?" she asked quietly.

"Go ahead, you always do."

"Why am I treated differently?" She looked up and stared him in the eyes. "I don't mean to be impertinent, sir, but I wasn't trained like the others, was I?

Lydecker considered her question, chin resting on his hand. "No. To be truthful, Jordan, you weren't. You were the last X-5 created, and we wanted to try out a different tactic in training you, to see how you compared to the others. I was strongly against it at first, but the results were astounding." He motioned for her to sit in the chair across from him. "I've been softer on you, part of the agreement of the testing. It is very hard to make one of our soldiers angry, nervous, or to feel anything else – that is, every soldier with the exception of you and 494, but his reason is different.

"Jordan, you get angry easily, and occasionally upset and quiet like you are now. All the trainers we told not to be as strict with you – and they weren't, which is why no one ever picks you up for insubordinance."

Trying to hide the frustration growing within her, Jordan kept a blank face, trying to prove Lydecker wrong. She _was _a good soldier. "Why?"

"As I was saying, when you get angry, you have a tendency to react the way a normal human would – you lash out. The others were trained not to do that. And your anger makes you stronger – you are virtually unstoppable when you're angry. You must remember all the times you critically injured opponents in training exercises."

"I asked you _why_?"

"I don't know why!" Lydecker stood. "The director at the time ordered it. Now Renfro wants you as her own personal assassin. That's why you have this assignment!" The conversation was over.

Jordan stood, saluted, and turned to leave. "Sir," she asked turning to face him, "could you authorize me a night pass. There's someone I need to talk to." She kept her face neutral, her emotions in check.

She waited while he wrote it out.  

  
-------

Cold, dark and damp – the best words to describe Manticore at night. Self-consciously, Jordan shivered in her light uniform. Conscious of the guards that saw her, she flashed her pass and continued towards 494's quarters.

Inwardly she was screaming. Outwardly, she looked like the Ice Princess, ready to snap at the next person she saw. The guards all knew her, knew her reputation, knew she was dangerous, and if what Lydecker had said was correct, knew to let her do whatever she wanted. They left her alone. Plus, they were all on 494's payroll and would keep their mouths shut no matter what they saw or heard.

"Open the door," she said softly when she reached his cell. She heard the almost inaudible footsteps as he covered the distance from his cot to the door. It opened and she slipped in, feeling his eyes watching her as she moved. Night vision had its advantages.

Suddenly, she was back against the wall, 494's mouth on top of hers.

Mind reeling from shock, "Simon," rolled off her tongue.

A stinging slap. She punched him back.

"I'm sorry, 494," she whispered, barely audible to a normal person, loud and clear to an X-5. Regretting ever coming here, she stepped back from the wall, and reached for the cell door.

"You're leaving."

"Please, don't even pretend you care, 494," she replied bitterly. Something in her snapped. "I'm not Rachel, _Simon_. And I never will be. And I can't believe how stupid I was for believing that you knew the difference, that you might actually care."

Roughly he pulled her away from the door, angry and shocked at what she had said. "You're right. You're not Rachel. But I know the difference."

"Do you?" Standing straight she was only two inches shorter than he was. "I'm leaving. Guess you were right, we won't be in town at the same time anymore. No more games. I was there for you after that little re-indoctrination episode last year, in case you didn't remember."

"What do you mean you're leaving? You make it sound like you're never coming back." He gripped her arm firmly and pulled her down next to him on the cot. 

"I don't want to come back." A tear started sliding down her cheek. "I'm different, and they all knew it – they encouraged it. I don't know who I am." She leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes.


End file.
